What's in a Name?
by Someone aka Me
Summary: Soulmates!AU where the soulmates first name and initial bruise into a person's skin. In which aro!Nat and gay!Clint are soulmates, Tony has Bruce and Pepper but they don't have each other and Tony is straight as Clint's arrows, and everyone is just trying to figure things out. Tony/Pepper, Tony&Bruce, Natasha&Clint.


For my Sam, for GGE 2015. I love you.

A NOTE: Yeah, I'm not even going to try to translate anything into Russian because I know no Russian and it wouldn't go well. So the Russian is in italics.

So the entire idea for this was BruceClint. Is there BruceClint in the finished product? No, not really. How this happened, I have no idea.

Also, timelines are slightly screwy in that this is not strictly chronological (each storyline is chronological but between storylines is not, really). So. Yeah.

.

_Natasha_

When the blood vessels in her right wrist break, Natasha is pissed. She is 27, old enough that she'd begun to hope that she'd never get a soulmark — she doesn't want some bruise in her skin, trying to tell her what her future should be. She _definitely _doesn't want it someplace visible. She's not going to wear her soul on her wrist.

She buys bracelets, wristbands, watches. She modifies them so they're functional, disguising knives and shocks and trackers, and therefore less likely to stick out to anyone who knows her well enough to get close. She wears long sleeves tighter at the wrists.

_Clint B, _whoever the hell he is, can just deal with the fact that she's never going to love him.

.

_Clint_

Clint is sixteen when he hits his stomach throwing himself to the ground for a roll and feels the burn of a bruise he doesn't remember earning. Later, when he is alone, he pulls up his shirt to find indecipherable characters etched on his last rib, on the right. _Well, that's not very helpful_.

He finds a free moment and slips away, searching the small town their travelling carnival is stopped in. He finds the library easily enough. It takes him much longer to find out the language is Russian.

_Russian? Damn._

Clint can't go to Russia.

He checks out the book on beginning Russian anyway. Who knows? Might be useful, someday.

.

_Bruce_

Bruce is not the first one to see his soulmark.

He's not sure how his father finds it among the myriad of broken vessels covering his back, but there it is, just below the spine of his scapula, across the skin above his infraspinous fossa — the base of his shoulder blade.

_Tony S. _The handwriting is sloppy, scrawled in a hurry by a boy with better things to do.

His father is furious, because this is just one more way in which Bruce is a statistical anomaly, one more way that Bruce is a _freak_. .

Bruce stares at it later, in the mirror, unreadable amongst the marks of his father's fists but still undeniably _there_.

When he falls asleep, he dreams of a boy named Tony.

.

_Tony_

Pepper's name forms a neat ring around his ankle, letters perfectly formed. It's an interesting name. He searches it, of course, but nothing comes up in any news or legal database. Nickname, then. The name on his ankle is the name she calls herself.

Tony never stops looking, of course, because he's Tony Stark, but… it isn't important, right now. Tony is 20 years old and everyone loves him — and everyone that doesn't pretends to anyway because he's rich. He has everything he could ever want already, right?

When the second mark etches itself across the top of his foot almost a year later, he is more than a little surprised.

Not because he gets a second name, so much. Tony has always known that his capacity for love is — well, as far as he can tell, it's endless. And he doesn't really care that convention says people are supposed to love one at a time.

No, the part that surprises Tony is that the name is _Bruce. Bruce B._

And Tony isn't… well, he doesn't think he's actually gay?

It's not like he's repulsed by it, or anything. He did his fair share of experimenting in college (made slightly complicated by the fact that he was 15 at the time — but not impossible, by any means). He doesn't give a damn what other people get up to, but guys just don't really do it for him.

He sits on the bench in his shower and leans over, rubbing at the mark on his foot. The handwriting is distinctly masculine yet very precise. He spares a moment to feel bad for the people with his handwriting scrawled across their skin. His name is the only thing he even bothers to ensure is legible to people other than him, but that doesn't mean it's neat.

He rubs his thumb over the mark again, wondering who Bruce B is. What Bruce B thinks of him — assuming Bruce even has Tony's mark on his skin. They don't, always — pairs don't always go both ways. He wonders for a moment if Pepper and Bruce have each other, or if it's just Tony destined to love them both.

Statistically, the chances of Tony even tracking Bruce down are unlikely. There are over 400 thousand people in the United States alone named Bruce, the B only narrowing it down a little. Not enough. And that's even operating under the assumption that Bruce is his legal name. And there's no certainty that he's American at all.

And yeah, Tony knows the theories. Soulmarked pairs are far more likely to meet than two random people in random places.

Tony hates leaving his life up to chance. But the truth is, he doesn't have much of a choice.

.

_Pepper_

Her soulmark forms down her left forearm. She stares at it, looking down at just the right moment to see the blood start to seep out of her capillaries to the surface.

She bruises slowly, as she always has, and it's not until the next day that the mark is readable, if messy. _Tony S. _

"Tony," she says to herself, alone in her room. "Tony." She likes the way his name fits on her tongue.

.

_Clint_

He stares down the arrow, lining her up in his sights, two gloved fingers holding the string taut. Clint knows she's Russian, but he's not thinking about the mark on his rib. He's not really thinking at all, to be honest — this is instinct, pure and simple, but Clint has learned to trust his instincts.

He lets the string go slowly, pulling the arrow off and sticking it back in his quiver.

Coulson isn't on coms right now — no one is, not for a mission like this, where no one is allowed to know he is here, and if he is caught, he is alone — so Clint has no way of knowing whether his choice is going to be condoned or condemned, but he doesn't much care.

He hops down with ease. Her gaze snaps up, meeting his. She snaps something out in Russian. Clint's Russian is rusty, but he's pretty sure she just asked who the hell he thinks he is.

Clint slings his bow over his back, leaving his hands wide open. _"My name is Clint,"_ he says in shittily accented, probably grammatically incorrect Russian. _"I'm here to give you a choice."_

.

_Bruce_

Betty knows his mark says Tony. Bruce knows Betty's mark says Glenn. They know and they are employing the coping strategy of blissful denial. After all, neither of them expects this to last forever.

But then everything happens, and Bruce almost kills her. He flees.

As he does, he wonders if the Other Guy bears Tony's mark, too.

A large part of Bruce hopes he doesn't, hopes this is proof that they are separate beings even if they aren't separate entities, proof that the Other Guy is not just another part of him, unleashed.

Bruce can't see the Other Guy, and the Other Guy isn't looking, so he has no way of knowing.

.

_Tony_

Tony isn't ashamed of his marks, but he always wears socks out in public because… because it's not anyone else's business. He knows what people will assume, both in seeing Bruce's name across his foot and in seeing that he has two names at all. They'll call him a slut, but they already do so that doesn't bother him. They'll assume he's gay or bi or whatever. He isn't, but he doesn't really care if they think he is.

It's not their opinions that make him hide the marks. It's that… they feel like something special, something _his,_ something _they can't have_. Because Tony knows the media, and they would take his soulmarks and make them public, and then they would dissect them, tracking probabilities and putting them into databases and _Pepper and Bruce are his_. So… whatever. Socks seem like a small concession to make.

.

_Pepper_

When Pepper applies for a position in the financial department of Stark Industries, it crosses her mind that her mark could refer to Tony Stark. She kind of deeply hopes it doesn't. The Stark heir has a well-formed reputation as a playboy completely unconcerned with responsibility. He's a celebrity, and she knows that celebrities have personas, but Stark seems to be genuinely arrogant and self-centered and essentially intolerable.

Rumors fly about his marks, none of which have been confirmed at all, but which say all nature of things. It's said that he has no marks, because he's incapable of love. It's said that he's so incapable of settling that he has two or three or even six marks. It's said that his mark is a man. It's said that she's a woman. It's said that it's both, one of each.

When asked, Stark himself refuses to answer any questions — not about location, and not about name. He says the marks are his and his alone.

Pepper doesn't really care (though she can't deny that she's curious). It doesn't matter. She gets the job, but she's just a secretary of finances. She'll probably never even meet Tony Stark.

.

_Clint_

She calls herself the Black Widow. She speaks to him exclusively in Russian, and then turns to Coulson and speaks in fluent English without the slightest hint of an accent. Clint gets the feeling that it's some sort of test. He's really not sure he's passing.

Phil kicks him out but tells him to hang around SHIELD. His words are accompanied by a death glare that Clint refuses to cower at. He nods and disappears from the room.

Phil is going to roast his ass for this, but Clint doesn't really care. He's still pretty sure he couldn't have fired that arrow.

He's still wearing gear, but he doesn't really care. The jacket is loose enough for him to have full range with his draw, which means it's comfortable enough, so he just wanders through to the cafeteria. It's been… two, three days since he's last eaten anything besides field rations? He picks up three apples, a banana, a bunch of grapes, and a bottle of water. He'll get more if his stomach can handle it, but he always craves fruit when he gets back.

He's sinking his teeth into the third apple when the Widow sits across from him, molding herself to the seat as though she's part of it.

"_Agent Barton_," she greets in Russian. Clint, mouth still full, merely nods, swallowing. _"Agent Coulson would like to speak with you_."

Clint swears in several languages. Widow seems amused. _"How pissed is he?"_

She just curls the corners of her lips faintly. Clint swears again, standing and draining the rest of his water bottle. _"Wish me luck_," he sighs, tossing the bottle in the recycling on his way out.

He forces himself not to look back.

.

_Bruce_

The Army takes him into custody. General Ross is furious beyond conception. Bruce has never been so afraid.

They want to dissect him, pull him apart and examine all the pieces. They take his blood, his autonomy, his dignity. The Other Guy doesn't let them take anything else. The first time he breaks past Bruce's control, he levels half the compound.

Half of Bruce is glad he didn't get away. The other half is only disappointed that he didn't make it to freedom. He loathes it here, but he doesn't want to cause any harm.

They strengthen the walls to try to keep him in.

It's not enough.

The second time, the Other Guy doesn't stick around to see how much destruction he's wrought. And Bruce, when he wakes up, starts running. He has no intention of stopping.

.

_Pepper_

She's supposed to be filing reports. Her job is to make sure everything gets where it's supposes to go. But she's Pepper, so of course she double-checks all the numbers before sending anything out. She does this automatically, without thinking about it.

When she finds an error, which happens occasionally, she just returns it to the sender with a politely worded question about whether the person meant to type a different number instead.

One day, Tony Stark himself wanders into their office.

"I'm looking for Virginia Potts," he says.

Pepper's head snaps up. The front desk lady gestures to her.

He wanders over to her desk. Pepper feels her eyes go wide, but she simply nods.

"Virginia?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark?"

He leans on her desk with his elbows, putting his head level with hers.

"I got your email."

Pepper blinks. "Sir?"

"Your email, Virginia. The email you returned to me, ever so politely _telling me I was wrong_."

The entire room is staring at them. Pepper curses her pale skin as she flushes slightly. "I'm… sorry?" she says.

Stark leans in closer.

"Please, don't apologize, Virginia. Can I call you Virginia?" he asks, but he doesn't give her time to answer. "Virginia, I'd like you to be my assistant."

"I… what?"

"My assistant. I need someone who's not afraid to correct me. You not only caught my mistake, you _told me about it_. No one does that."

Pepper stares at him.

"I want you, Virginia. And I get what I want."

Pepper blinks a few times before her brain kicks back online. "Pepper," she says.

Now Stark is the one who looks confused. "What?"

"My name. No one ever calls me Virginia. It's Pepper."

His eyes flick over her curiously. "Pepper Potts," he says, rolling the words around in his mouth, almost tasting them.

"Yes, Mr. Stark?" she says, ignoring his scrutinizing gaze. His eyes flick over her again.

"Please, call me Tony." He grins, but it's half smirk. He pushes off his elbows, standing upright. "You can pack all this up." He gestures to her desk. "I'll get you an office."

He turns to leave. Pepper stands. "I haven't said I'll do it."

Stark turns around, arrogance plastered across his entire face. "I told you, Pepper," he says. "I get what I want."

.

_Clint_

Turns out, Widow asked for Clint as her partner. It's the only thing she asked for, the only thing she offered up. Coulson wasn't going to deny her.

When he asks why, she just says, "_You couldn't kill me_."

Clint wants to deny it, but it's the truth. He couldn't take the shot.

He shakes his head and drops the subject.

For a long time, Clint just knows her as the Widow. She never offers anything else and he never asks, because he doesn't suspect it would be welcome. She doesn't volunteer anything about her past, not even when Coulson asks.

But then Phil calls her Agent Romanoff, and Clint finds this so utterly baffling that, for a moment, he doesn't have a clue who Phil is talking to. But Widow replies without hesitation. Clint blinks. Widow's eyes smirk at him.

He asks her about it later, mostly because he wants to know what she'd like him to call her.

She looks at him, her face unreadable.

"_You can call me Widow,"_ she says eventually.

Clint isn't sure whether he's supposed to be offended or grateful.

.

_Natasha_

Clint is… interesting. Not what Natasha expected.

She knows he's hers. He seems to be of the opinion that shirts are optional when he's off duty, and she's seen her name written across his rib in her own flawless handwriting. She's seen him scrawl his name across reports — it looks just like the vessel pattern on her wrist.

She doesn't tell him her name, because she doesn't want to know what he'll try to do. How he'll try to change things.

Nat doesn't want things to change. She doesn't mind letting Clint be her partner. She knows he wouldn't stab her in the back — he's unfailingly loyal, when he decides to be, and for some reason, instinct, maybe, he's chosen her. He's sharp and tactical and the best shot with an arrow she's ever seen. And he's not afraid.

Clint and Nat, they never have an extraction plan.

And they work well together. Natasha doesn't want to change that.

Honestly, Natasha isn't sure she's capable of love. Not the way people usually define it, anyway. She's not sure she ever was. She doesn't… she doesn't like to have sex with people she actually cares about. And she cares about Clint, even if she never meant to.

She cares about him, but she wants him as her _friend_ and her _partner_, not anything else.

She's not sure what Clint wants. She doesn't ask.

.

_Tony_

The first time he sees her write her name is the first time he knows for sure, but he'd suspected from the start. There aren't, after all, many Peppers in the world. Tony knows. He's checked.

But then she writes her name on an employment contract she's signing and Tony _knows_ because he's seen that name written that same way a million times.

Pepper's eyes linger on Tony's name the same way his had lingered on hers, and so he knows that too. She twitches, absent-mindedly rubbing her left arm.

Tony is Tony, so he decides on a whim. "You have my name on your arm, don't you?"

"Of course not," Pepper replies immediately. Tony can see the lie in her eyes.

"Because I have yours around my ankle," he says.

Pepper doesn't seem to know what to do with this information. She blinks. "You do?"

Tony nods. "Wanna see? Although, in the interests of full disclosure, I've got a second mark, too. Only, well… It's different."

Now Pepper looks really confused. "You have two." Tony nods. "And one of them is… different." He nods again. "Different how, exactly?"

Tony knows he's fidgeting but he can't stop himself. He's never explained this to anyone before. But this is _Pepper_.

"I'm not gay," Tony says. He hesitates.

"I'm sensing a but," Pepper nudges.

Tony rubs the back of his neck. "My second mark says Bruce. Bruce B."

Pepper isn't sure what she's supposed to do with that, but she's Pepper, so she rolls with it, as she always does. "All right."

"All right?"

"We'll deal with it when it comes up."

Tony, Tony falls a little bit in love with her in that moment. _We_, she says, so casually willing to take his world of problems and share it. No one has ever… that's new.

.

_Bruce_

He's lived without mirrors for so long that he could wonder if the mark were still there, if he didn't know they were permanent.

But he's Bruce, so he can't forget. Can't forget that someone out there has been saddled with _him_ for a soulmate. Someone he'll probably never meet. There aren't a lot of people named Tony in Nepal, in Sudan, in Cambodia.

.

_Clint_

Widow isn't responding to her coms and she was supposed to check in over ten minutes ago. Clint is starting to feel the creeping edges of worry. He knows Widow, trusts her to be competent, but even she makes mistakes, every once in a millennia or so, and even small mistakes have the potential to be fatal in the middle of an enemy compound. His steps are silent across the cool tile. He holds his bow, arrow nocked but string undrawn.

He has no way to locate her because it's safer for everybody that way but he hates the uncertainty of it. He hates that, if he doesn't find her in the course of completing their objective, he has to get the hell out and leave her.

Widow was supposed to be hitting the guard room and shutting down the cameras, which needs to happen before Clint can get anywhere near the vault. He has to assume she hasn't done that. Watching his steps and staying in the cameras' blind spots as they move, Clint makes his way toward the center of the compound.

It's only because he's staying in the blind spots that he sees her. He has to duck into an alcove for a minute to avoid a sweep and she is pressed against the back wall, almost invisible in her black tactical suit.

"Widow?"

She doesn't respond. Clint's pretty damn sure that's because she's unconscious. At least, he hopes. "Aw, hell, Widow, what happened?" He slings his bow over his back and his fingers fumble at her right wrist, pushing at sleeves and holsters until he finds skin for a pulse — only he freezes instead. Across the outside of Widow's wrist, in Clint's unmistakably shitty handwriting, is Clint's name.

"Well, shit."

But Clint, Clint has faced down giants and he doesn't have time to freak out in the field. He presses his first two fingers to her thankfully warm skin and feels her blood flow, proof that she is still alive.

"Okay, Widow. Naptime's over."

He smacks her. When she doesn't move, he reaches back to do it again. Before his hand can make contact, hers snaps up and grabs his wrist. Her eyes spring open and she jumps to her feet. She only sways a little.

"Clint?" she hisses. Clint nods, pulling his bow back out and nocking an arrow automatically.

"We've got to move, Nat," Clint says without thinking, and it's a mark of how much he's surprised her that her eyes actually widen infinitesimally. Her gaze snaps to his ribs, then to her own wrist, then up to his.

Clint shakes his head. "Later, Widow," he says. She responds to the name, nodding. "Now tell me what got the jump on you, because I know I don't want to face it."

She scowls. "I got sloppy. Won't happen again."

Clint spares a moment to glance at her. "I know it won't," he says. And he does.

.

_Tony_

Tony has known of Bruce Banner for some time. After all, he is one of the world's leading physicists, an expert in seemingly everything he can get his hands on, but perhaps best known for his work with gamma radiation. Or the fact that he turns into a giant green rage monster. Which Tony isn't supposed to know.

He knows Bruce is on the list for the Avengers Initiative, so there's a possibility they could run into each other now that they've decided Tony's brain is more important than his inability to play well with others.

He doesn't know whether Bruce Banner could possibly be _Bruce B_.

So when Bruce shows up and starts talking about breaking through the Coulomb barrier, Tony doesn't let anything show.

"Finally, someone who speaks English!" he says, moving toward the man, looking him up and down intently. He's kind of cute, in a fluffy, bed-headish way, but… _Nope. Still not gay._ The mental note is an absent one as he reaches for Bruce's hand. "It's good to meet you, Dr. Banner. Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled, and I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster."

Well, no one has ever accused Tony of being tactful.

And, by the end of the hour, Tony doesn't _care_ if Bruce is _Bruce B_ because even if he isn't, Tony wants to keep him. Because Bruce is _brilliant_. He keeps up with Tony and doesn't care when Tony pokes him with sharp things (which is, in general, kind of a hazard of being around Tony).

Tony isn't used to people keeping up, and he definitely isn't used to people being a step ahead, but Bruce, Bruce isn't just following. He's coming at it from a different angle but sometimes he gets there first, and Tony wants to keep him around for the sheer novelty of it.

And, honestly, Tony isn't sure what to do with all of this. Because Pepper is everything he needs — Pepper keeps him grounded, solid. She doesn't put up with all of his shit. Somehow she can't sort through the quagmire that is Tony Stark and determine what's pure shit and what are the things that Tony _needs_ to do, because he gets like that sometimes. She knows him.

She's like half of his brain — the half that can deal with board meetings and running a company and placating people. She knows him and she loves him anyway. She's the only one who has seen every single one of his vulnerabilities and insecurities and still stands at his side. He loves her.

But Bruce, Bruce is something different. If Pepper grounds him, Bruce helps him _fly_. He accepts Tony for all that Tony is — he _understands_, in a way that Pepper doesn't and Tony hopes Pepper never will, honestly. He and Bruce have both suffered too much to gain the perspective they have, and Pepper should never go through that. Pepper is purer than Tony will ever be but Bruce, Bruce is just as shattered.

Tony wants to keep them both.

But he's still not actually gay. Which is… confusing, but probably not a priority. Not with gods running around trying to take over the world.

.

_Natasha_

"I have a question," Clint says.

Nat goes still, her back to him as she faces the stovetop. She can feel him coming closer behind her, and this, this is what she was afraid of.

"Yes?" She waits, expecting his touch, expecting some kind of proposition, _something _that will expose how messed up she is when she has to admit that she doesn't want this.

"Can I call you Natasha?"

Nat blinks.

"Or Nat," she finally says.

"Okay." Clint turns away, flops on his tattered brown couch.

"Nat?" She stirs the stir-fry. She can hear Clint shuffling around behind her.

"Yes?" she says eventually.

"You know I'm gay, right?"

Natasha hadn't realized that she was holding tension in her shoulders until it releases. She sets down the spoon and turns, leaning the small of her back against the counter.

There are a lot of things she won't say. She doesn't know how to give voice to everything that is inside of her, to explain how horrifying she found the idea that Clint would want something _more_. She doesn't know how to explain that she cannot imagine anything more intimate than the way she trusts him _right now_. He is her partner, the closest Nat has ever come to calling someone her best friend.

"Thank you," she says, and she knows Clint hears the rest of it, too. Knows that Clint knows she isn't thanking him for being gay but rather for picking the most straightforward way he could think of to tell her that things aren't going to change, at least, not like that.

Clint just nods, because he's her goddamned _soulmate_ and he _gets_ her.

.

_Tony_

Bruce is not as easy to read as Pepper. This is logical, given his background, but still immensely frustrating to Tony. Because Tony is Tony, and he wants to know. He wants to understand. He wants to know if Bruce has Tony's handwriting claiming him, wants to know what Bruce wants, wants to know everything. And sometimes, Bruce will look at him and Tony will think that Bruce does have his mark, but other times Bruce is so incredibly guarded that Tony doesn't even have a guess, and Tony is frustrated.

And frustrated Tony does stupid, impulsive things.

So after the battle (in which Bruce was apparently unclothed after transforming back and Tony is pissed he didn't get to see that because it would've made this so much _simpler_) and after the shawarma, Tony drags Bruce back to his tower, claiming that even superheroes need sleep before they go on the run again. Tony hasn't managed to convince Bruce to stick around. Yet. He's confident in his persuasive skills.

So he has Bruce in his living room sitting on his couch and Tony offers him a drink (which Bruce refuses) and then just asks, "Do you have my name?"

Bruce blinks. Tony starts babbling. "Because I have yours. I think. I mean, I do, it's your name, but is it _you_? Because there are a million people with the name Bruce B but none of them have ever fit me like you do and I just—"

Bruce cuts him off, thank God. "I do," he says quietly. Tony goes silent. He probably should have thought this far, but he hasn't. So, as usual, he's flying by the seat of his pants.

"I… in the interests of honesty, I have Pepper, too. But Pep doesn't have you, so I'm guessing you don't have her?"

Bruce shakes his head.

"Would you like to see it?" Tony finally asks. Bruce, he can tell, doesn't want to ask for this but wants it anyway.

Tony, who is so careful with his marks around everyone else, takes his shoes and socks off without hesitation. He curls his foot up, bending his knee straight up and resting the foot on the couch between them. Pepper's neat dark print curls around his ankle. Bruce's careful handwriting sprawls just above his toes, facing out so that Tony has to read it upside down.

Bruce reaches out, clearly without thinking, and then jerks his hand back as though Tony has bitten it. "You can," Tony says without thinking, but he means it.

Tentatively, Bruce reaches forward. His hand skims across the mark lightly, almost reverently.

After a moment, and without words, Bruce turns his back to Tony. Tony is alarmed until Bruce pulls his shirt off over his head and Tony can see his own name scrawled across Bruce's lower shoulder.

"Can I?" Tony asks, his voice unusually tame. Bruce just nods.

Tony touches the letters lightly. After just a moment, he pulls back and puts his shirt back on. Tony curls his arm around his knee, leaving his foot there.

"Bruce, are you… that is, I'm straight. Quite straight. And Pepper and I are… good. Usually."

Tony isn't really sure what he expects Bruce's reaction to be, but it isn't what he gets. A sigh of relief and the words, "Oh, thank God."

"What?"

Bruce has the gall to smile at Tony's confusion.

"Tony, you know soulmarks don't always mean romantic or sexual partners, right?"

"Er, don't they?"

Bruce actually laughs. "No. While it's most common, it isn't absolute. I was kind of hoping… I mean, it's less messy, you know? Actually, platonic soulmates are successful at maintaining a lifelong connection in nearly 100 percent of cases, compared to just under 75 percent of soulmates who embark on a romantic connection. And I… do tend to be the outlier, statistically."

"You were worried that Big Green would interfere with a romantic relationship, is that it?" Tony is almost offended, despite it being a moot point. He'd like to think he would be okay with the Hulk in a relationship, but he supposes he'll never really know.

Sheepishly, though, Bruce nods.

Tony just slings an arm around the man's slim shoulders, tugging him closer and mumbling, "Let me tell you, Pepper is going to be so relieved."

.

_Clint_

Stark tries to get them all to move in to his tower. Clint has been living next door to Nat in SHEILD housing when he's in New York. He's okay with this. More than okay with this. He doesn't really need the constant teambuilding thing. He's too used to flying solo, or with just Nat.

He doesn't need to see everyone, doesn't need the constant reminder of what he's done. How he betrayed them all when he was supposed to be a part of the team.

He ventures to Stark Tower once. To apologize, because he has some insane hope that it'll help, or something. Nat calls him a fool. Clint can't disagree.

It winds up helping more than he thought it would.

.

_Bruce_

The first thing Clint says to him is an apology. Bruce shakes his head and says, "I know what it is to apologize for things that aren't your fault but feel like they are because it was your body that did them. You don't need forgiveness from me. There's nothing to forgive."

Clint doesn't seem to know what to say to that. Bruce just smiles.

Maybe, just maybe, Bruce will stick around this time.


End file.
